Post by redsycorax on Aug 15, 2023 0:25:01 GMT
The Freedom Brigade of the United States are the mightiest heroes on their addled Earth, which isn't saying much. But can even their combined powers withstand the knee-trembling dreadful horror of...
say, who is this Waylon dude anyway?
++
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
We ended up up in Waylon and
my mother thought she was in heaven
she had a prognathous jaw and
dragged her hands on the ground
Not a very nice sound
The folks there were prejudiced to start
and said
"YUSS WHUT that girl is too smart."
Three years ago I came to know Bobby
He was the only one who wasn't gap toothed,
inbred and blobby
First time someone looked inside
And saw my womanly pride
Oh, there were Waylons in the river
and there were Waylons on the shore
The County was full of Waylons
They were kind of hard to ignore
No-one realised what I felt for Bobby
until he walked by the river one night alone
And didn't come home
Oh, there were Waylons in the river
and there were Waylons on the shore
The County was full of Waylons
They were kind of hard to ignore
I think he probably ran away
But they point at me and
say I led him astray
I need to make it to the river
And blow up this ghastly Waylon town!
Ronette Freud: "Waylon County"
And in the aforementioned grotesque rural district, Waylon X. Terwiliger, a Ferret Handler, decided that the world needed an Apocalypse, given that on Earth-55, religious authorities looked around realised that their planet was weird enough as it was and that for that reason, they'd declare the Book of Revelation incurably gnostic and lock it away in a cave in Bag Samedi somewhere and hope nobody ever found it. And no-one ever did. Unfortunately, however, Waylon X. Terwiliger belonged to a particularly wretched cult in his extremely benighted residential area and believed that he was selected to warn the world of the Plague of Waylons that were coming, a veritable Waylopocalypse!!! Too long had the non-Waylonic majority pointed to Waylons and snickered at their bad hair, crooked teeth, acne, bad colour co-ordination, total musical and literary impairment, flared jeans, platform shoes and heavy costume jewelry.
But what did this have to do with the Freedom Brigade, I hear you ask?
NOTIONAL BROADCASTING SYSTEM: NEWSLINK
"And for the third year running, there's been a bizarre surge in babies named Waylon in several US states- the states of Hysteria, Pandemonium, Chaos, Decline, Transylvania, Credulity, Amnesia and Insanity. The aforementioned US states tend to do things like picket libraries because they don't like literacy in general, have banned male hairdressers because a significant proportion are gay, and have made fast food mandatory because they subsidise much economic activity in those areas. This phenomenon has worried many people outside the affected areas, given that Waylonism is associated with technical ineptitude, bad taste in music and literature and a seriously shallow and stagnant gene pool. If this trend continues, these states may be unable to function properly- sorry, that was an error, I meant to say even worse than they do now.'
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT First, there shall come from the skies squadrons of yellow toy ducks with evil grins on their faces, and devils horns. And YUSS WHUT they shall land all over the earth and have their wrathful way for they are SATANDUCKIES!!!"
PHOBIDELPHIA, TRANSYLVANIA:
Down from the skies
To Raven and Slay
Satanduckies have their fowl way!!!
Quackzebelzub!
Duckrael!
Bludwing!
Guttz!
Satanduckies!
Satanduckies!
Say Arrgh No!!!
And the sky duckened with malevolent and fowl noises as people gasped at the awful canards in the sky above them. Fortunately, however, the Freedom Brigade were on their way to help. Mr and Ms Might used their hotplate vision to sear and baste the attacking avians while Green Trashcan enticed duck hunters to target that area of sky. Unfortunately, in doing so, he alerted a squadron of heavily laden but quite appropriate Doomsday Ducks to retaliate. Captain Swift and Princess Power created a vortex that breached the dimensional barriers, with highly unfortunate results. (There's probably a good reason that L. Frank Baum never published The Satanic Ducks of Dread Invade Oz, but this isn't a fansite for him, so we'll just save that for another day). Lady Liberty, the Mighty HermAphrodite and the Eye disposed of several thousand others, but still the Satanduckies kept on coming, although there weren't quite as many as there was a while ago. They still kept on and they began quacking, and retreated down the country, past the Gulf of Mexico.
Thus Was the First Manifestation of the Apocalypse of Waylon Thwarted!!!
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT And there shall be a second manifestation, for bald suited guys with batwings will keep repeating don't have to be/don't have to drive/don't have to live/don't have to have/don't have to buy. And lo, I shall not be responsible for the mess that their manifestations leave on the carpets. Thus speaketh the Great Prophet Waylon!!!"
"YUSS WHUT!!!" moaned the Waylonic hordes in response.
WASHINGTUB DC:
Mr. Might and Ms. Might were on the scene rapidly. With their see through vision, Mr Might nodded: "I thought so. The Great Prophet Waylon is doing this on the cheap, which means that the batwinged bald suited guys are really, really two-dimensional."
"They have no substance and are as slender as a cardboard cutout, you mean? Phew, Clint, who wrote this dialogue? Talk about labouring the point."
Mermaid waved from a whale's back below them:
"Okay, so they're nothing more than cellulose, pulp, salt water, carbon, titanium dioxide, wax emulsion, formaldehyde, water glycol and azo pigments? You two can go rest up. I'll take care of this. Spouts away, Gernsback!" An instant later, the obliging whale shot a stream of water straight at the flapping batwinged bald men in suits and ripped them asunder as the ink and print ran badly and then evaporated.
And thus, the second threat of the increasingly incompetent and unhappy Great Prophet Waylon X. Terwiliger was cancelled out.
"Hey, wait a minute. You don't suppose that the perpetrator of all this wanton Waylonry is a five dimensional imp."
PING! Bat Woman looked down at the voice message on her cellphone: "YUSS WHUT Regiliwret X. Nolyaw. YUSS WHUT you won't get rid of me that easily, Freedom Brigade!"
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT. Behold the third manifestation of Global Wayloning!!! There shall be anarchy as traffic lights decide on their own colour arrays YUSS WHUT."
FBUS HEADQUARTERS, EARTH ORBIT:
"Is it my imagination or are these 'manifestations' of his making less and less sense as time goes on?" The Mighty HermAphrodite asked in puzzlement, as Bat Woman used the FBUS supercomputer to triangulate what was happening:
"It's bad news I'm afraid, Butch and Toni. A nasty virus has gotten into the US federal traffic light system and sown chaos in its wake. They're not red, orange and green anymore."
Black Vulcan volunteered his assistance: "Hey, y'all. I can resolve this with a hefty pulse of electricity right in its mainframe where the sun don't shine."
And so he did. Seconds later, motor vehicle traffic in the United States had thankfully returned to normal.
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
YUSS WHUT. Curses and dams. Why is the Freedom Brigade able to staunch my every effort at wull like this? I'll call in the big guns...
WGERM-TV STUDIOS, NEW YANK:
"And in an unscheduled item of breaking news, we're crossing to our New Yank studios, where Hank Stryder is interviewing a satanoid named ... and get this... Beelzewaylon!!!"
"Mr Waylon..."
"NUH WHUT that's Beelzewaylon, Prince of Dorkness. 1, 223rd in the Infernal Hierarchy."
Beelzewaylon did not carve a particularly dashing figure. His horns were stubby, his face was round, with no visible ears and looked as if it had been designed by an extremely small child. His eyes had no pupils, his mouth had no visible teeth, he had no neck, his right nipple was strangely out of place high atop his right breast, and a forked tail protruded from a black wool like substance which also ended in two quotidian satanoid hooves.
"All right, then, Beelzewaylon. Would you say that your comparatively low ranking in Hell means that the Devil doesn't have particularly high expectations or positive assessment of your competence in this mission? Or is it just virtually impossible to get good hench-people these days?"
"YUSS WHUT listen, puny mortals!!! Tremble and fear at the Apocalypse of Waylon!!!"
"I'm sorry, is that supposed to be frightening?"
"YUSS WHUT it's supposed to be Thuh End of the Wurld!!! Bow down and worship the Prince of Dorkness."
"Look, this isn't Faux News. You're supposed to give rational answers derived from logical reasoning and proper evidence, not run around hysterically screeching at people all the time. And buster, you're not even remotely threatening. So let's answer the question, shall we? Does your assignment to this Apocalypse mean that you're not exactly well-liked within the overall framework down below?"
"YUSS WHUT right, I've had quite enough of this! Be transform-ed into a toad!!!" But instead of the mighty clash of lightning and thunder that would have been expected, there was a small, disconsolate and only slightly damp grey cloud, which fizzed and let out a reluctant spark. And nothing happened. With a swish of his purple and green spotted cape, Beelzewaylon would have then dematerialised, but it took him about five attempts to fully do so.
THE TWELFTH INFERNAL VESTIBULE, HELL:
"Riaowww. No wonder I got the infernal hierarchy promotion last year. Look at that twit, Broccolitron!!! He's making a laughing stock of the entire Down Below with that performance. How did he get that gig, anyhow?"
Broccolitron (a flaming purple sprout of broccoli, and female for some reason) cast her florets at the demonic viewscreen: "Well, this is Hell and corruption is par for the course. I'd say he bribed someone."
Asmewdeus (a small tabby kitten with outsized convoluted and curved satanoid horns and razor sharp multiple rows of teeth) growled: "Wait a minute. I was that turkey's supervisor when he was in charge of the witch panic on that Earth. It ended with multiple complaints of sexual harassment and we were sued by the Great Goddess Diana for ripping off her copyright ceremonies and rituals. How the heaven have they forgotten that?"
Broccolitron sighed: "Remember, bureaucracy is also one of the core aspects of Down Below, old fiend."
"I'll get to the bottom of this!" Asmewdeus declaimed, dissolving into a far more resonant display of thunder and lightning.
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT Now hear the Fourth Mysterious Prophecy of the Apocalypse of Waylon!!! A creature that is like a three eyed elephant, with tentacles, fangs, bat wings, fishnet stockings, lipstick, riding a mauve Cadillac down Fifth Avenue will speak and proclaim whines and blunders. And people will wonder at it, for it is a sign of the beginning of the end."
"YUSS WHUT whut is that supposed to mean, Great Prophet Waylon?"
"YUSS WHUT don't ask me, I'm only a vessel of a far Dorker power thun myself."
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YANK:
And thus, for a matter of seconds (deep breath) a creature that was like a three eyed elephant, with tentacles, fangs, bat wings, fishnet stockings, lipstick, did indeed ride a mauve Cadillac down the Fifth Avenue of New Yank, but then its bulk squashed the chauffeur and the car itself and it received a heavy fine for improbability infringements under the terms of the Einstein-Heisenberg-Hawking Treaty, so it spontaneously vanished into utter nonsense. The Freedom Brigade hadn't even had to lift a finger that time, given the Powers of Dorkness were getting more and more desperate and improvising badly because they had no coherent plan.
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT Now whut are you going to do, Great Prophet Waylon? All of your predictions to date have fallen flat and the only threat to world stability is from the massive laughter that has resulted."
"YUSS WHUT shut up, Waylonic hordes. I'm thunking. Ah. I have it. Behold a Wayloness, clothed with an exact duplicate of the Moon and stars. She shall seduce the great men of Earth and possibly also any great women that are that way inclined."
FBUS SATELLITE, EARTH ORBIT:
Bat Woman frowned at the image on the Time Space Visualiser: "A female Waylon?"
Princess Power bit her lip: "This isn't good. Normally, I'd voice loud imprecations for it to perceive sisterhood and not play along with the patriarchal oppressors and then beat the living daylights out of same, but there's something strangely awry about this."
The Mighty HermAphrodite gasped: "Hey, wait a minute. Biometrics, please. Ewww. Look at this. No womb, no dangly bits, no breasts, no sexual attributes at all. Folks, Waylons are neuter."
Captain Swift whistled: "Thank goodness for that. The very prospect of Waylons reproducing is enough to put anyone off heterosexuality for life, even if it's not on my menu."
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT all right! Waylons!!! March on Wushingtub!!! A million Waylon march shull bring them to their knees."
"YUSS WHUT hey Great Prophet! What about unleashing the country's waterworks? We can have massive Waylonic Irrigation. Anyhow, are there actually a million of us?"
"YUSS WHUT oh crap! Here comes that killjoy Freedom Brigade again..."
"Waylons! Disperse to your homes and call off this Apocalypse! It isn't working anyway." Princess Power called.
"YUSS WHUT no! This is the judgment of the Grating Beelzewaylon on this planet for being too smart..."
In a cloud of ill-smelling Waylonsmoke, Beelzewaylon materialised, none too happy at his blabbermouth servitor for having given the game away. He pointed one of his four fingers at the Great Prophet Waylon, who turned into a roast turkey and was devoured immediately. Whines and blunders emanated from him, and several Waylons fell out of the thorn trees in which they were ensconced.
But Bat Woman had deduced something: "Hey, wait a minute. Why aren't any of the rest of devilkind around to back up Beelzewaylon? I smell a large rodent!"
At that moment, Asmewdeus chose to appear as well, with a frown on his small feline features and holding an incongruously large contract signed in dripping blood in his paws:
"Right, Beelzewaylon, get lost now! I've gone under your head and invoked the Lower Powers and they've decided that you've grievously bungled this wretched attempt at an Apocalypse. And no more YUSS WHUTs either. They're phatic communion and just irritating overall. You've set the cause of Perdition back centuries with these over the top antics and they've been useless!!! They're not even remotely sinister, menacing, malignant or ominous. You're sacked, bozo. Go off and create your own infernal realm."
yuss whut
moaned Beelzewaylon and all of his spontaneously created (badly) Waylonic hordes as they all vanished into Asmewdeus' convenient traveling bag. And because nature and time/space also abhors a Waylon, history began to repair itself. Mr Might raised an eyebrow:
"Okay, Asmewdeus, thanks. But if Beelzewaylon was supposed to be on your side...?"
The small tabby kitten shaped demonic overlord smiled, revealing his incongruous rows of razor sharp teeth:
"Well, actually, no, he wasn't. Look, Beelzewaylon being a devil was a big mistake in the first place. When he was the angel Wayloniel, he fell because he was clumsy, God refused to have him back as a result, and Satan decided to hire him anyway because his utter ineptitude was extremely irritating and might conceivably tempt humanity to acts of frustration, annoyance and malignant retribution at his utter stupidity and incompetence. Unfortunately, infighting, bureaucracy, tight budgets, incompetence, nepotism and bungled performance appraisals are a fact of unlife in the Infernal Realms. Provoking an unplanned and poorly co-ordinated Apocalypse without authorisation was the last straw."
"You do realise that this was actually beneficent as far as we were concerned?"
Asmewdeus shrugged: "Don't worry, I won't get into any trouble as a result of this. I'm the Chief Demon in Charge of Infernal Public Relations and we've been trying to fiery-red-pencil that idiot out of Eternal Torment for eons. And I can promise you, no Apocalypse is scheduled for your world anyway."
EPILOGUE: WAYLIMBON:
And in the newly and hastily constructed Realm of Eternal Dorkness that was Waylimbon, ...-Waylon (he'd lost the entitlement to the Beelze- prenom when he got kicked out of hell) blundered furrily (because there was a surfeit of uncut Waylonwool from his retinue of Waylondevils):
"YUSS WHUT! Freedom Brigade! Asmewdeus! You have not heard the last of ...-Waylon and his farces of awful!!! One day, I shall return and wreck my vengeance on your punny planet!!!"
Happily, though, because ...-Waylon was as thick as two Plancks and couldn't organise his way out of Waylimbon for several trillion years, Earth-55's universe had succumbed to entropy and heat death long beforehand. And so humanity was spared the ordeal of having to put up with Dorkness Incarnate!!!
[THE END : 12.45 PM, AUGUST 23, 2023]
say, who is this Waylon dude anyway?
++
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
We ended up up in Waylon and
my mother thought she was in heaven
she had a prognathous jaw and
dragged her hands on the ground
Not a very nice sound
The folks there were prejudiced to start
and said
"YUSS WHUT that girl is too smart."
Three years ago I came to know Bobby
He was the only one who wasn't gap toothed,
inbred and blobby
First time someone looked inside
And saw my womanly pride
Oh, there were Waylons in the river
and there were Waylons on the shore
The County was full of Waylons
They were kind of hard to ignore
No-one realised what I felt for Bobby
until he walked by the river one night alone
And didn't come home
Oh, there were Waylons in the river
and there were Waylons on the shore
The County was full of Waylons
They were kind of hard to ignore
I think he probably ran away
But they point at me and
say I led him astray
I need to make it to the river
And blow up this ghastly Waylon town!
Ronette Freud: "Waylon County"
And in the aforementioned grotesque rural district, Waylon X. Terwiliger, a Ferret Handler, decided that the world needed an Apocalypse, given that on Earth-55, religious authorities looked around realised that their planet was weird enough as it was and that for that reason, they'd declare the Book of Revelation incurably gnostic and lock it away in a cave in Bag Samedi somewhere and hope nobody ever found it. And no-one ever did. Unfortunately, however, Waylon X. Terwiliger belonged to a particularly wretched cult in his extremely benighted residential area and believed that he was selected to warn the world of the Plague of Waylons that were coming, a veritable Waylopocalypse!!! Too long had the non-Waylonic majority pointed to Waylons and snickered at their bad hair, crooked teeth, acne, bad colour co-ordination, total musical and literary impairment, flared jeans, platform shoes and heavy costume jewelry.
But what did this have to do with the Freedom Brigade, I hear you ask?
NOTIONAL BROADCASTING SYSTEM: NEWSLINK
"And for the third year running, there's been a bizarre surge in babies named Waylon in several US states- the states of Hysteria, Pandemonium, Chaos, Decline, Transylvania, Credulity, Amnesia and Insanity. The aforementioned US states tend to do things like picket libraries because they don't like literacy in general, have banned male hairdressers because a significant proportion are gay, and have made fast food mandatory because they subsidise much economic activity in those areas. This phenomenon has worried many people outside the affected areas, given that Waylonism is associated with technical ineptitude, bad taste in music and literature and a seriously shallow and stagnant gene pool. If this trend continues, these states may be unable to function properly- sorry, that was an error, I meant to say even worse than they do now.'
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT First, there shall come from the skies squadrons of yellow toy ducks with evil grins on their faces, and devils horns. And YUSS WHUT they shall land all over the earth and have their wrathful way for they are SATANDUCKIES!!!"
PHOBIDELPHIA, TRANSYLVANIA:
Down from the skies
To Raven and Slay
Satanduckies have their fowl way!!!
Quackzebelzub!
Duckrael!
Bludwing!
Guttz!
Satanduckies!
Satanduckies!
Say Arrgh No!!!
And the sky duckened with malevolent and fowl noises as people gasped at the awful canards in the sky above them. Fortunately, however, the Freedom Brigade were on their way to help. Mr and Ms Might used their hotplate vision to sear and baste the attacking avians while Green Trashcan enticed duck hunters to target that area of sky. Unfortunately, in doing so, he alerted a squadron of heavily laden but quite appropriate Doomsday Ducks to retaliate. Captain Swift and Princess Power created a vortex that breached the dimensional barriers, with highly unfortunate results. (There's probably a good reason that L. Frank Baum never published The Satanic Ducks of Dread Invade Oz, but this isn't a fansite for him, so we'll just save that for another day). Lady Liberty, the Mighty HermAphrodite and the Eye disposed of several thousand others, but still the Satanduckies kept on coming, although there weren't quite as many as there was a while ago. They still kept on and they began quacking, and retreated down the country, past the Gulf of Mexico.
Thus Was the First Manifestation of the Apocalypse of Waylon Thwarted!!!
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT And there shall be a second manifestation, for bald suited guys with batwings will keep repeating don't have to be/don't have to drive/don't have to live/don't have to have/don't have to buy. And lo, I shall not be responsible for the mess that their manifestations leave on the carpets. Thus speaketh the Great Prophet Waylon!!!"
"YUSS WHUT!!!" moaned the Waylonic hordes in response.
WASHINGTUB DC:
Mr. Might and Ms. Might were on the scene rapidly. With their see through vision, Mr Might nodded: "I thought so. The Great Prophet Waylon is doing this on the cheap, which means that the batwinged bald suited guys are really, really two-dimensional."
"They have no substance and are as slender as a cardboard cutout, you mean? Phew, Clint, who wrote this dialogue? Talk about labouring the point."
Mermaid waved from a whale's back below them:
"Okay, so they're nothing more than cellulose, pulp, salt water, carbon, titanium dioxide, wax emulsion, formaldehyde, water glycol and azo pigments? You two can go rest up. I'll take care of this. Spouts away, Gernsback!" An instant later, the obliging whale shot a stream of water straight at the flapping batwinged bald men in suits and ripped them asunder as the ink and print ran badly and then evaporated.
And thus, the second threat of the increasingly incompetent and unhappy Great Prophet Waylon X. Terwiliger was cancelled out.
"Hey, wait a minute. You don't suppose that the perpetrator of all this wanton Waylonry is a five dimensional imp."
PING! Bat Woman looked down at the voice message on her cellphone: "YUSS WHUT Regiliwret X. Nolyaw. YUSS WHUT you won't get rid of me that easily, Freedom Brigade!"
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT. Behold the third manifestation of Global Wayloning!!! There shall be anarchy as traffic lights decide on their own colour arrays YUSS WHUT."
FBUS HEADQUARTERS, EARTH ORBIT:
"Is it my imagination or are these 'manifestations' of his making less and less sense as time goes on?" The Mighty HermAphrodite asked in puzzlement, as Bat Woman used the FBUS supercomputer to triangulate what was happening:
"It's bad news I'm afraid, Butch and Toni. A nasty virus has gotten into the US federal traffic light system and sown chaos in its wake. They're not red, orange and green anymore."
Black Vulcan volunteered his assistance: "Hey, y'all. I can resolve this with a hefty pulse of electricity right in its mainframe where the sun don't shine."
And so he did. Seconds later, motor vehicle traffic in the United States had thankfully returned to normal.
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
YUSS WHUT. Curses and dams. Why is the Freedom Brigade able to staunch my every effort at wull like this? I'll call in the big guns...
WGERM-TV STUDIOS, NEW YANK:
"And in an unscheduled item of breaking news, we're crossing to our New Yank studios, where Hank Stryder is interviewing a satanoid named ... and get this... Beelzewaylon!!!"
"Mr Waylon..."
"NUH WHUT that's Beelzewaylon, Prince of Dorkness. 1, 223rd in the Infernal Hierarchy."
Beelzewaylon did not carve a particularly dashing figure. His horns were stubby, his face was round, with no visible ears and looked as if it had been designed by an extremely small child. His eyes had no pupils, his mouth had no visible teeth, he had no neck, his right nipple was strangely out of place high atop his right breast, and a forked tail protruded from a black wool like substance which also ended in two quotidian satanoid hooves.
"All right, then, Beelzewaylon. Would you say that your comparatively low ranking in Hell means that the Devil doesn't have particularly high expectations or positive assessment of your competence in this mission? Or is it just virtually impossible to get good hench-people these days?"
"YUSS WHUT listen, puny mortals!!! Tremble and fear at the Apocalypse of Waylon!!!"
"I'm sorry, is that supposed to be frightening?"
"YUSS WHUT it's supposed to be Thuh End of the Wurld!!! Bow down and worship the Prince of Dorkness."
"Look, this isn't Faux News. You're supposed to give rational answers derived from logical reasoning and proper evidence, not run around hysterically screeching at people all the time. And buster, you're not even remotely threatening. So let's answer the question, shall we? Does your assignment to this Apocalypse mean that you're not exactly well-liked within the overall framework down below?"
"YUSS WHUT right, I've had quite enough of this! Be transform-ed into a toad!!!" But instead of the mighty clash of lightning and thunder that would have been expected, there was a small, disconsolate and only slightly damp grey cloud, which fizzed and let out a reluctant spark. And nothing happened. With a swish of his purple and green spotted cape, Beelzewaylon would have then dematerialised, but it took him about five attempts to fully do so.
THE TWELFTH INFERNAL VESTIBULE, HELL:
"Riaowww. No wonder I got the infernal hierarchy promotion last year. Look at that twit, Broccolitron!!! He's making a laughing stock of the entire Down Below with that performance. How did he get that gig, anyhow?"
Broccolitron (a flaming purple sprout of broccoli, and female for some reason) cast her florets at the demonic viewscreen: "Well, this is Hell and corruption is par for the course. I'd say he bribed someone."
Asmewdeus (a small tabby kitten with outsized convoluted and curved satanoid horns and razor sharp multiple rows of teeth) growled: "Wait a minute. I was that turkey's supervisor when he was in charge of the witch panic on that Earth. It ended with multiple complaints of sexual harassment and we were sued by the Great Goddess Diana for ripping off her copyright ceremonies and rituals. How the heaven have they forgotten that?"
Broccolitron sighed: "Remember, bureaucracy is also one of the core aspects of Down Below, old fiend."
"I'll get to the bottom of this!" Asmewdeus declaimed, dissolving into a far more resonant display of thunder and lightning.
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT Now hear the Fourth Mysterious Prophecy of the Apocalypse of Waylon!!! A creature that is like a three eyed elephant, with tentacles, fangs, bat wings, fishnet stockings, lipstick, riding a mauve Cadillac down Fifth Avenue will speak and proclaim whines and blunders. And people will wonder at it, for it is a sign of the beginning of the end."
"YUSS WHUT whut is that supposed to mean, Great Prophet Waylon?"
"YUSS WHUT don't ask me, I'm only a vessel of a far Dorker power thun myself."
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YANK:
And thus, for a matter of seconds (deep breath) a creature that was like a three eyed elephant, with tentacles, fangs, bat wings, fishnet stockings, lipstick, did indeed ride a mauve Cadillac down the Fifth Avenue of New Yank, but then its bulk squashed the chauffeur and the car itself and it received a heavy fine for improbability infringements under the terms of the Einstein-Heisenberg-Hawking Treaty, so it spontaneously vanished into utter nonsense. The Freedom Brigade hadn't even had to lift a finger that time, given the Powers of Dorkness were getting more and more desperate and improvising badly because they had no coherent plan.
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT Now whut are you going to do, Great Prophet Waylon? All of your predictions to date have fallen flat and the only threat to world stability is from the massive laughter that has resulted."
"YUSS WHUT shut up, Waylonic hordes. I'm thunking. Ah. I have it. Behold a Wayloness, clothed with an exact duplicate of the Moon and stars. She shall seduce the great men of Earth and possibly also any great women that are that way inclined."
FBUS SATELLITE, EARTH ORBIT:
Bat Woman frowned at the image on the Time Space Visualiser: "A female Waylon?"
Princess Power bit her lip: "This isn't good. Normally, I'd voice loud imprecations for it to perceive sisterhood and not play along with the patriarchal oppressors and then beat the living daylights out of same, but there's something strangely awry about this."
The Mighty HermAphrodite gasped: "Hey, wait a minute. Biometrics, please. Ewww. Look at this. No womb, no dangly bits, no breasts, no sexual attributes at all. Folks, Waylons are neuter."
Captain Swift whistled: "Thank goodness for that. The very prospect of Waylons reproducing is enough to put anyone off heterosexuality for life, even if it's not on my menu."
WAYLON COUNTY, PANDEMONIUM:
"YUSS WHUT all right! Waylons!!! March on Wushingtub!!! A million Waylon march shull bring them to their knees."
"YUSS WHUT hey Great Prophet! What about unleashing the country's waterworks? We can have massive Waylonic Irrigation. Anyhow, are there actually a million of us?"
"YUSS WHUT oh crap! Here comes that killjoy Freedom Brigade again..."
"Waylons! Disperse to your homes and call off this Apocalypse! It isn't working anyway." Princess Power called.
"YUSS WHUT no! This is the judgment of the Grating Beelzewaylon on this planet for being too smart..."
In a cloud of ill-smelling Waylonsmoke, Beelzewaylon materialised, none too happy at his blabbermouth servitor for having given the game away. He pointed one of his four fingers at the Great Prophet Waylon, who turned into a roast turkey and was devoured immediately. Whines and blunders emanated from him, and several Waylons fell out of the thorn trees in which they were ensconced.
But Bat Woman had deduced something: "Hey, wait a minute. Why aren't any of the rest of devilkind around to back up Beelzewaylon? I smell a large rodent!"
At that moment, Asmewdeus chose to appear as well, with a frown on his small feline features and holding an incongruously large contract signed in dripping blood in his paws:
"Right, Beelzewaylon, get lost now! I've gone under your head and invoked the Lower Powers and they've decided that you've grievously bungled this wretched attempt at an Apocalypse. And no more YUSS WHUTs either. They're phatic communion and just irritating overall. You've set the cause of Perdition back centuries with these over the top antics and they've been useless!!! They're not even remotely sinister, menacing, malignant or ominous. You're sacked, bozo. Go off and create your own infernal realm."
yuss whut
moaned Beelzewaylon and all of his spontaneously created (badly) Waylonic hordes as they all vanished into Asmewdeus' convenient traveling bag. And because nature and time/space also abhors a Waylon, history began to repair itself. Mr Might raised an eyebrow:
"Okay, Asmewdeus, thanks. But if Beelzewaylon was supposed to be on your side...?"
The small tabby kitten shaped demonic overlord smiled, revealing his incongruous rows of razor sharp teeth:
"Well, actually, no, he wasn't. Look, Beelzewaylon being a devil was a big mistake in the first place. When he was the angel Wayloniel, he fell because he was clumsy, God refused to have him back as a result, and Satan decided to hire him anyway because his utter ineptitude was extremely irritating and might conceivably tempt humanity to acts of frustration, annoyance and malignant retribution at his utter stupidity and incompetence. Unfortunately, infighting, bureaucracy, tight budgets, incompetence, nepotism and bungled performance appraisals are a fact of unlife in the Infernal Realms. Provoking an unplanned and poorly co-ordinated Apocalypse without authorisation was the last straw."
"You do realise that this was actually beneficent as far as we were concerned?"
Asmewdeus shrugged: "Don't worry, I won't get into any trouble as a result of this. I'm the Chief Demon in Charge of Infernal Public Relations and we've been trying to fiery-red-pencil that idiot out of Eternal Torment for eons. And I can promise you, no Apocalypse is scheduled for your world anyway."
EPILOGUE: WAYLIMBON:
And in the newly and hastily constructed Realm of Eternal Dorkness that was Waylimbon, ...-Waylon (he'd lost the entitlement to the Beelze- prenom when he got kicked out of hell) blundered furrily (because there was a surfeit of uncut Waylonwool from his retinue of Waylondevils):
"YUSS WHUT! Freedom Brigade! Asmewdeus! You have not heard the last of ...-Waylon and his farces of awful!!! One day, I shall return and wreck my vengeance on your punny planet!!!"
Happily, though, because ...-Waylon was as thick as two Plancks and couldn't organise his way out of Waylimbon for several trillion years, Earth-55's universe had succumbed to entropy and heat death long beforehand. And so humanity was spared the ordeal of having to put up with Dorkness Incarnate!!!
[THE END : 12.45 PM, AUGUST 23, 2023]